


Covalent Bonds

by nubianamy



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Gen, Lab Bromance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-16
Updated: 2013-10-16
Packaged: 2017-12-29 13:29:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1005994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nubianamy/pseuds/nubianamy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A FitzSimmons drabble for anagramrmx.  Prompt: "I want an episode where Simmons has to go on a secret biochem project or to a conference or something, but Fitz has to stay behind and he spends half of the episode pouting and wondering what she’s doing and wishing that she was there to do science with him. And of course when she gets back he acts like he didn’t miss her at all, but she knows, and she makes sure he knows she knows. And he’s just glad she’s back, so she gets away with it."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Covalent Bonds

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AnagramRMX](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnagramRMX/gifts).



Fitz didn’t like Chinese.  It wasn’t because he was a picky eater; it was because the other grad students in his PI’s lab at MIT all liked Chinese, and when it came to takeout, nine times out of ten, they’d ordered Mary Chung’s. It would be okay if he never ate another order of mu shu in his life. 

But here he was, dabbing dumplings into sauce and taking glum bites, barely tasting what was in the styrofoam container.  He didn’t even notice Skye poking him with a chopstick until she went for his pec.

"Ow."  He rubbed his chest, blinking.  "What?"

"I said, can I have one?"

He slid the container over to her, and she bit one in half, regarding him thoughtfully.

"Where’s your daemon?"

"What?" he said again.  He was starting to resent her presence in his lab.  

"Your other half.  The girl.  What’s her name, the one with the too-sweet voice?"  Skye rolled her eyes.  " _Simmons._   What, does she have a date?”

"She’s at a talk on G-protein-coupled receptors.”   _And she would have ordered General Tso’s._   He pushed the remaining dumpling around with one chopstick.  

Skye’s smile widened slowly.  ”You don’t know what to do with yourself without her.”

"Oh, give me a —"  He slouched on his stool, refusing to scowl.  

"Come on.  I’ve known you for two weeks and already I can tell you guys are like the old married couple.  When’s the last time you spent an evening away from the lab?"

Fitz didn’t answer, mostly because he was trying to do the calculations in his head.  His memory had more to do with the number of takeout containers in the lab’s fridge than with the actual date.  What day of the week  _was_  it, anyway?  Something ending with a Y…  He shook his head irritably, shutting the styrofoam container with a squelchy  _click._   ”Aren’t you done here?”

"Sure," Skye said amicably.  "You heading home?"

"Work to do."

It wasn’t untrue, at least in the sense that he always had more to tinker with in the S.H.I.E.L.D. lab.  And it didn’t really matter where he crashed, as long as it was flat and reasonably soft and not too cold.  Tonight it was the bionic heart and the couch behind the centrifuge.  Simmons had left an orange fleece blanket there, and it had become a fixture of the lab.  

The third time he woke up, it was to Simmons’ hand on his brow.  He rubbed his face on the nubbly fabric of the couch and squinted at her.  ”What time is it?”

"After two.  But I had espresso.  And the lecture was  _brilliant.”_   Her eyes gleamed.  ”I didn’t think you’d want to wait until morning to hear about it.”

"No," he agreed, sitting up with a stifled yawn.  "And there’s Chinese in the fridge for you."


End file.
